May I have this dance?
by sharkinterviewee
Summary: Undercover missions, jealousy, soft talks, and dancing all mixed together equals Starmora love. [Starmora week 2018 - Day 2: dancing]


**Starmora Week 2018**  
 **Day 2: Dancing**

* * *

 _ **May I have this dance?**_

* * *

A ballroom filled with partners dancing in formal and evening wear might not be what one would first picture when thinking of intergalactic arms dealers, or that the duchess hosting such an affair on her estate would have her fingers dipped in so many criminal pots. She wasn't even duchess of anything, that's just what she called herself.

Peter hated people who gave themselves self-aggrandizing nicknames just to inflate their own sense of importance. Besides- duchess? If you're gonna go for royalty, why not just use queen or king? Even baroness would've been better- there's such a level of pretentiousness that came with duchess. Also, wasn't that like a thing people named their cats? And other pets?

Whatever, he had an issue with this lady's nickname, and it took all his self control not to make a face every time he had to say it because she wouldn't answer to anything else.

Ugh. Peter hated people who gave themselves nicknames, and the ones that went for 'high class' ones were always the worst offenders, the ones who insisted you call them those stupid monikers that implied they were supposed to be rulers of something was always markers of someone you _don't_ want to get to know.

And, to what you're thinking: no. Starlord was different. First- because he didn't give himself that nickname. His mom did. You're in the clear for self-aggrandizing nicknames if someone else gave it to you. It's kinda like why Guardians of the Galaxy worked so well. They would've seemed like such self important dicks if they just started calling themselves that after a brainstorming session for their would be team name. But, because Ronan called them that first (it was even _better_ that he was using it as a put down at the time), and all the people they saved heard him say it before they totally kicked his ass, they were now free to go gallivanting around the universe as Guardians of the Galaxy without seeming like a bunch of dillweeds.

Peter didn't just up and start calling himself a lord one day. Which he can guarantee this duchess lady did. That's why Starlord was different. He didn't nickname himself, because people who did that were the worst.

 _And_ he didn't force people to call him Starlord. The Duchess wouldn't respond if you called her anything else, not her real name, or even ma'am or sir. Starlord was different.

He still answered to Peter, or Quill, or even 'hey, asshole!'

He kinda hated these missions where he had to dress up nice and play a functioning member of society and go undercover as a social elite in something fancy schmancy like this.

Actually, that wasn't true. He loved these undercover as someone respectable missions as long as he had a certain someone next to him. Pretending to be upstanding citizens as they infiltrated some gathering was something he always had a ball doing whenever it was him and Gamora pretending to be normal, unsuspecting people. He _loved_ those types of missions.

Safe to say this wasn't one of those missions.

Tonight he was just the well dressed distraction tasked with keeping the Duchess's attention at the gala while the rest of the team actually pulled off the real job.

Gamora had infiltrated the event and was disguised as a guard on the second floor, effectively running point for the team while doing 'walkthroughs' inbetween checking on Peter and watching his back from the second floor balcony in case one of the many disreputable guests in attendance at this ball recognized him for who he actually was. He didn't recognize any names on the guest list, and safe to say he looked pretty damn unrecognizable in a pressed suit with shining cuff links and hair that was actually _combed._ He cleaned up pretty nicely, if he didn't say so himself.

Plus, it wasn't just the fun type of dancing he was good at. He was good at this stuffy, formal partner dancing too. The one with very precise steps because rich people didn't know how to let loose.

Looking all presentable and dressed to the nines as he held one of the Duchess's gloved hands, his other hand at the waist of her deep midnight blue evening gown (which was too soft to not cost a bazillion units by the way, it was almost _too_ blue, like she could somehow afford deeper colors than the rest of the universe) as they danced around and around in circles with all the other couples there- he fit right in. Nothing to be suspicious about.

* * *

Gamora looked out across the balcony, spotting Peter in less than two seconds, still doing fine just like the last time she checked on him. She had to stop herself from grumbling at the sight, knowing that Peter (and everyone else) would be able to hear her through the com links if she did so.

Technically she didn't have to check on him so often and spend so much time literally watching his back since she'd be able to hear on the com links if something were to start going wrong for him, but she did so anyway. Rocket and the other's had their part handled, so she settled in, leaning her back against the wall as she watched him move across the floor below her.

Gamora couldn't help but notice the woman was pretty, this Duchess. Her long orange hair was piled atop her head in a loose style that left locks and curls spilling out to cascade down her shoulders in a messy but perfect way that had to be by design, and probably took hours to get right. Her smile might be what one called demure, or coquettish, with pretty pink lips and warm brown skin that could only be described as beautiful. Her bright hair and midnight dress made her look like night and day. Or like a sunset even. Gamora couldn't tell if that was on purpose, or if she was just one of those beautiful people who always had that thing work out for them, and the affect her dress made paired with the lovely shade of her skin was just an accident.

From head to toe, she was like the sun fading into the dusk fading into the night sky.

It wasn't like this was the first beautiful woman they had come across since becoming the Guardians of the Galaxy. This wasn't even close to the first time the team had been on a mission and used Peter as bait with a target who was an attractive female that he was supposed to go distract and flirt with and buy them some time.

It wasn't how beautiful this woman was that bothered Gamora (though she could do with horrible people being a little less gorgeous sometimes).

The problem was… she was actually a good dancer.

Probably what one would call a natural, as she danced with Peter. Gamora didn't have a good vantage point for seeing her feet, but she was certain that this other woman didn't stumble even once. Neither did Peter, as he led her through the steps with a skill and finesse that she hadn't known he'd possessed. Much more than an instructor, he looked like a professional. They both did. As they moved through the motions with a certain grace and ease, they both looked like they did this for a living, like they were made to be dance partners. The way that silken glove grasped his hand, the other on his shoulder, as she followed his lead with the confidence of someone who knew what they were doing- they way the whirled and twirled, almost floated across the floor with her midnight colors trailing behind them- it was almost like a mirage.

They were both so good at it. Peter never had to stop and wait, never once grimaced in pain because his feet had been stepped on or he'd been kneed, didn't have to direct her or even give her pointers. Like for the first time his skills were able to shine, because he finally had a partner who worked with him instead of against him. He finally had a partner that _moved._ And when he was paired with someone of similar skill level, for the first time Gamora could see what a truly good dancer he was.

The Duchess complimented him to where dancing looked like one thing they did together, rather than something clumsy or awkward or even a fight. Her movements were fluid, matching his, and Gamora would almost think it was beautiful if the sight didn't fill her with such vitriol.

* * *

The job went perfectly, and the mark never suspected a thing. Sure, Peter might have had more fun if he was on the explore the rich person mansion team this time, but he couldn't complain too much. No one got shot at even once, which already had this as a big win in his books. Being a polite version of his usual witty and charming self while moving in circles the whole night was pretty boring. But as captain of a pretty rowdy team, he had to appreciate having a boring night when they were infiltrating a, once again, intergalactic arms dealer's sprawling manor. And dancing was a whole lot more entertaining than standing in the same spot for hours, which he'd had to do on previous 'boring' jobs before (and Peter never was very good at staying still).

After it was finished, Peter kept bragging about his performance and how he put the artist in con artist. So yeah, he was happy for a job well done for a not unimpressive score.

(sure, the Duchess and her operation was to big for them to take her down or anything, but she'd soon discover quite a few integral things missing that would cripple her weapons trade and some of her other illegal side businesses- but the real win were the documents that Rocket found that would soon find their way into the hands of the nova corp who could do much more damage with the papers than the Guardians could ever do in a single night)

For the first time in awhile it felt like one of their plans went off without a hitch. Plus, being the distraction this time was much easier and much less perilous to his health than it usually was. Why couldn't they all go this smoothly? Instead of them running into trouble half the time- probably more than half the time, actually.

Somebody recognizes them, somebody stabs somebody they weren't supposed to, something goes wrong- not this time.

This one was smooth and easy. Their flawless plan was executed perfectly- no running, screaming, or accidental stabbings- and they made off with the score with none the wiser.

Mission complete, without missing a beat.

* * *

Or so he thought.

They made it safely off planet and made sure to get some distance between them and the dangerous criminal they just robbed before contacting the client and informing them that the job was done.

Peter was thankful to be out of the polite and mild mannered persona, Drax and Rocket were their usual were doing the whole party animal thing like always after a successful mission, of course wanting to celebrate with alcohol, Mantis was glad everyone was safe and laughing like crazy with the other two, but Gamora…

She was much quieter than usual, after everything. And Peter wasn't sure why. She wasn't in the celebratory mood like the rest of them when they just made a helluva lot of units. Normally she was happy when a job went this smooth- especially when they made off without and damage to the ship or collecting any life endangering injuries. No one got injured at _all_ on this one.

Still- she was off. Quiet and subdued. Even her expressions seemed muted, and Peter was actually starting to worry.

She seemed upset, but not in the normal angry Gamora upset way, she just seemed… like unhappy or something. Like something was weighing on her mind.

She gave their friends non-convincing smiles (they didn't have _him_ convinced at least) as they boarded the Benatar in their normal boisterous fashion. It was almost polite smiles that she sent around the table that evening, but she… she seemed almost sad.

Peter pursed his lips, nursing his beer as he watched her watch everyone else. Normally he would've been all too quick to join the high energy coming from the other side of the table that evening, but with Rocket and Drax drunk enough to be shouting, and Mantis playing mediator when they started arguing over whatever drinking game they were playing, he was much more concentrated on the woman beside him.

A frown tugged at her lips as she picked apart what was left of her meal, tearing off pieces of her bread like it was just something for her to do- looking for a distraction from whatever heavy thoughts wouldn't leave her head right now.

And Peter was just trying to figure out what happened, what had escaped his notice.

This was a good job. This was a good day. Or, at least, it should have been. Even as he ran over everything that had happened in the past 24 hours in his mind, he came up empty. There wasn't anything remotely upsetting that he could think of.

Like yeah, he kinda had to fake flirt with the Duchess in the ballroom that night, but that wasn't a big deal. He's had to do that before- when the team used him as that type of bait for a mission.

While Gamora sometimes did get jealous if a particular target got a little handsy- that just led to her aggressively claiming him that night. Fucking the life out of him, and telling him how much he was _hers._ And he loved it.

It wasn't like she was the worried type of jealous whenever he flirted with a mark for a job that they were all on. She knew it was for a job, wasn't real, and she trusted Peter either way, regardless of the situation. Sometimes she just felt a little possessive whenever she saw people touching what belonged to her (which Peter had told her many times was "hot as hell").

Anyways, tonight, there wasn't much to get jealous or possessive over. They weren't dancing at some club.

They were dancing in a fucking ballroom for Christ's sake.

It was all elegant and formal. Definitely no inappropriate touches. The flirting was a lot more subtle than it sometimes had to be for cons. Besides, if Gamora had been upset because of the Duchess lady and Peter she would've been all growly, not quiet. Not like this.

* * *

He didn't get a real chance to approach her about it until they were turning in for the night, which was probably for the best anyway. It was late when they got back anyway, so they pretty much just ate dinner and went to bed. The captain's quarters afforded them the best privacy anyway. It was the first chance he'd had to talk to her alone since they got back- but she'd been quiet and subdued the whole time. Through dinner he could leave well enough alone (besides, she was allowed to have her own, private thoughts- serious ones too) so he certainly didn't ask her about it in front of everybody else.

But she was still clearly upset with something eating away at her. And, once she shut their bedroom door, it meant they finally had a moment alone to talk.

"Hey, are you okay?"

"Yes," Gamora replied immediately, almost automatically. Safe to say he didn't believe her.

She went to the dresser to pull out a fresh changes of clothes- or tried to, at least. She had to walk past him to get there, but Peter stopped her before she could make it to the drawers. He caught her wrist and gently pulled her back into him.

"Hey, Gamora, talk to me," he said softly, intertwining his fingers in hers.

Gamora swallowed and looked at their hands- the way he held it reminded her of the way he held the hand of that woman as he took lead, as they danced together earlier that night. Now he was holding Gamora's hand like they were in a dance.

When she met his eyes, his expression and the concern written all over his face made her heart thump louder.

"What do you want to talk about?" She asked diplomatically, a tone she had picked up from him.

Peter frowned, clearly unimpressed by her trying to play dumb. "What you're upset about."

"I'm not upset about anything. I'm not upset." Even her denial sounded much too subdued- she could hear it in her own voice. It wasn't convincing at all.

"Gamora, clearly something's bothering you. Please. I just wanna… I just wanna help."

She looked away from him then, casting her eyes to the floor, because she couldn't deal with that outpouring of concern from his eyes. He was worried- she had worried him. She didn't like Peter being worried, especially not on her behalf. She wanted him to smile- not furrow his brows as he tried to figure out what was wrong. She didn't like him looking so troubled. She liked Peter smiling. So she cast her gaze away, subconsciously tightening her grip on his hand.

"You looked nice tonight," Gamora said quietly, because it was true. All dressed up, he didn't look quite like Peter, but he looked nice dancing, and he was good at it. _He_ looked natural, and it was a pleasurable sight, watching him dance across the ballroom floor like he was made to do it. "I didn't know you knew how to move like that. You were really good at it."

She was silent after that, and Peter waited for her to start speaking again, but it seemed she didn't mean to pause, she was just stopping there.

She still wasn't looking at him, and she was still holding tightly to his hand.

"Mmhmm," he prompted, encouraging her to continue.

She stared long and hard at their intertwined hands, her jaw tensing and her expression twisting as she thought.

Suddenly she turned her piercing gaze to him. "Why do you try to get me to dance with you?"

Peter scrunched his face up in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Why you you always try to get me to dance with you?" She asked again. "Still? Why do you still try? I never do-" before he could object, she amended, " _Rarely_ do. And I don't dance well when I barely even dance. I hardly move when you do convince me to. And of the few times I have, I've actually physically injured you. Only two of those times were on purpose. The rest were all accidents. I… I _suck_ at dancing," Gamora said emphatically, and her using that word like he always did was so endearing- saying something sucked. God, she could be so cute sometimes- without even trying. "I suck at dancing, Peter. So why? Why do you still try to get me to dance with you every change you get? Every occasion and opportunity. Why do you try to pull me into dancing with you at every opportunity?"

He gave her a crooked gin then, like he was about to say something a mix of sweet and charming (though she'd never say those words).

"Because it's fun," he answered with a good-natured smile, like she was silly for even asking.

"It can't be fun. You can't have fun dancing with me when I never actually dance with you. I never _really_ dance with you, Peter. You can't say dancing with me is fun when you've only experienced something akin to dancing, and even then it's few and far between. Why do you keep trying to get me to dance with you? I never do. I always say no. Why do you still do that? Why do you still try to get me to dance? You are honestly good at dancing. Why would you want to dance with me?"

By that point, it was pretty clear this was about more than just dancing. When he saw all her insecurities written all over her face, it took everything he had in him to not interrupt her to reassure her and tell her how great and awesome and amazing she was.

He knew she had to get this out. He wasn't expecting this deep, personal insecurities stuff to be following her dancing question, but he wanted to comfort her the moment it became clear she was upset about her own (perceived) inadequacies.

But he knew she needed to say what she was going to say, so he listened and waited patiently for her to finish, holding her hand the whole time.

Gamora finally met his eyes again, and hers looked far more vulnerable and uncertain than he'd ever seen them as she looked to him for a response.

And, when she turned her eyes to him, it was like his whole mind went blank. He wanted to say the perfect thing, to say something good, but he didn't even know where to start. He wanted to say the words she deserved to hear, but she had him at a loss for words far too often.

Even though he didn't know what to say, he knew he needed to say _something,_ so he settled on winging it. It'd worked for him before.

"Because I… cause I like to, G'mora," Peter shrugged, a sheepish, almost self conscious smile spreading across his face. "I dunno, I just- I like getting you to wiggle. It _is_ fun, getting you to wiggle and shift back and forth to the best songs in the world. I always have a good time when we do that. When I do that with you. It makes me… Happy. When I'm with you. And I'm glad you thought I looked good dancing tonight," he added with a wink, cause he couldn't resist. "But you know what I was thinking the whole time? How it would've been more fun with you. Cause you know, I'm always smiling and laughing when I try to get _you_ to dance with me, cause I just can't help myself. You know how many times I had the urge to laugh tonight? Zero. Zilch. Nada. I would've been in stitches in just two minutes if I had _you_ next to me. I would've been smiling so wide my cheeks hurt in just 30 seconds of trying to _convince_ you to dance with me. Instead of fake smiling with that duchess lady the whole hour on the ballroom floor. So, I mean, that's why. I like getting you to wiggle with me, Gamora. And I like making you laugh and smile like you always do when I try to dance with you. I like smiling with you. I like dancing with you too. Anything with you. Makes me happy."

From the look on her face, it seemed like he had just said the perfect thing.

Without really thinking Gamora pulled him into a warm embrace that seemed to take them both by surprise. He stiffened slightly- cause of the whole surprise thing- before he wrapped his arms around her waist and held her close. Gamora nuzzled into the crook of his neck, and he placed a soft kiss on the top of her head. It was times like these when she was reminded that they fit so well together.

"Don't stop doing that," she whispered. "I hope you never stop. Asking me to dance. Don't stop."

She pulled back just far enough to kiss his lips.

It was a good, long kiss. A great one. And when they disentangled their limbs from each other, they were both smiling in a ridiculous manner.

Then Quill's lips turned up into a smirk, obviously something mischievous in mind with the spark in his eye.

"So…" he started expectantly.

"Don't push your luck, Starlord," she told him, shaking her head, trying to hide her smile with her hair and utterly failing.

"Had to try," he offered as an excuse. Gamora rolled her eyes, chuckling, because he was utterly impossible.

She kissed him again anyways.

* * *

 _ **~FIN~**_

* * *

 **AN: I know it's a little late in the day, but I thought I had this one finished, then I got up today and added over 1,500 words to it. When I woke up at noon today Peter was dancing with nondescript woman on nondescript mission. When I opened up the document today, it actually started with "While watching his back, Gamora couldn't help but notice the woman was pretty, and a very good dancer. Probably what one would call a natural, as she danced with Peter. Her movements were fluid, matching his, and Gamora would almost think it was beautiful if the sight didn't fill her with such vitriol."**  
 **Maybe I regretted not writing a mission fic for day one after reading some of the other fills yesterday. Who knows?**  
 **All I can say for sure is the Duchess and Peter's rant about people who give themselves nicknames didn't exist this morning.**

 **Hope you liked the additions**

 **Also, it is such a shame that I posted that starmora one shot _Dresses, Dates, and Dancing_ back in June, cause after the starmora week prompts came out and I read them I was just like 'can I repost it? It works so well for day two, I can pretend I did a first date and dancing fic in one on purpose! I totally combined the starmora week prompts, guys! AFTER the fact!'**

 **So you guys can go read that if you want a first date/dancing fic.**

 **Was that self promotion blatant enough?**

 **:)**


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